


Wildfire

by sannlykke



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 11:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13832940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sannlykke/pseuds/sannlykke
Summary: “You made a mistake in trusting me.”“And yet,” Akashi murmurs, reaching up as Mayuzumi stands before him, “You have done what I asked of you.”





	Wildfire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mayumi122](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayumi122/gifts).



> it's mayuzumi's birthday which can only mean one thing! --well.
> 
> a general note:
> 
> this is based off the cross colors au outfits in which akashi is oda nobunaga and mayuzumi is akechi mitsuhide and uh, if y'all know japanese history y'all'd've already been spoiled on the ending (see the warning) lmao. if not it's fine, this is a very exaggerated and fictitious version of events anyway!
> 
> (之前看到太太的文裡提到戰國paro就開始構想這篇了，希望你喜歡\^o^/)

I.

 

Some men have killed for less.

He looks down at his feet, the blood pooling near his sandals, the firelight glimmering in the mirror that holds his reflection. The bow in his hand slips from his grip, slick with sweat.

_Don’t lie to me now, Chihiro._

The sound of swift hooves descends upon him even amidst the crackling of flames. There is no time left, and yet—

And yet—

Akashi’s hair is soft as Mayuzumi brushes it aside with his fingers, and he thinks, maybe, someone is weeping beyond the burning room.

 

  

_a great sage lived in the temple / wearing divine cloth without seams / but now the sage has gone / and a maiden in the mountain / dries the cloth without a master_

 

 

“You’re no good at shogi,” Akashi tells him, and Mayuzumi does not disagree. He watches Akashi rearrange the tiles again, his movements so swift it’s clear he is continuing to ignore Mayuzumi’s plans to take leave.

Akashi does not keep guards in his room. He’s too proud—and too good with his blade, though his army is outfitted with inventions newer and foreign. Anyone who thinks they have it in them to best him one-on-one would quickly be put in their place, which is in the ground.

“I wasn’t summoned here to play.”

One day his tongue might cost him dearly, but for now Akashi seems in a good enough mood to simply capture another one of Mayuzumi’s pieces without saying anything. Mayuzumi signals his annoyance loud and clear with a sigh. “Fine. I lose.”

He bites his lip as Akashi’s thumb brushes against his for a second too long. “If you are in such a hurry, Chihiro, I suppose I can let you go with that.”

 

III.

 

He hears Akashi speak just as he makes to step out the door, even through the faint moaning in the hallways, the creak of wood beneath his feet.

“If you don’t move, your healers will be here soon.”

“I don’t suppose you put an arrow in me wishing I would live.”

Mayuzumi doesn’t move, though his hand twitches towards the hilt of his sword. “It’ll be less painful if you don’t talk.”

He could already imagine the smile on Akashi’s face before even turning around. “When has pain ever stopped me from doing anything, Chihiro?”

 

 

_the winds of mount hiei swiftly / scatter the cherry blossoms / and like snow / they linger on the path to home / in hopes of keeping you with me_

 

 

The mountains are in the midst of blossoming at this time of the year; Mayuzumi is not sentimental, or at least he likes to think of himself that way, but there is something about a cherry tree in full bloom that makes him pause.

“Are you happy with this place?” Akashi asks, riding alongside him. Mayuzumi had preferred to walk, but the steed beneath him seems content enough to have him there. Beneath them the path is lined with pale pink petals of nature’s doing, though the wind still brings a small chill. Neither he nor the rest of their small retinue stand out in any way beside Yukimaru and his master, and that’s the way Mayuzumi likes it.

“Tanba is beautiful at this time of the year.”

They pause near a particularly brimming tree, flowers resting so much and so heavy on its branches it is a wonder none of them have broken. “Rare words coming from you.”

Mayuzumi frowns, glancing at him. “You don’t have to compliment something is to appreciate it.”

Paying him no mind, Akashi reaches up into the tree, slipping a small knife out of his sleeve as Mayuzumi watches. It seems almost sacrilegious to even touch the flowers, but he knows neither the bells of heaven nor the flames of hell could move Akashi Seijuurou from any decision.

“Here.”

A single flower is dropped onto his horse’s mane; Mayuzumi looks up and blinks. “What?”

“Press it into one of those books you like so much,” Akashi tells him, sitting up straight once more. Behind them Mayuzumi can hear Hayama snicker, but he dares not waver in his focus on Akashi’s gaze. “To remember the spring by.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Quite the contrary.” The flower is fully formed, each petal curled ever so slightly, and Mayuzumi tries not to linger on the fondness in Akashi’s voice as he plucks it out of its resting place and tucks it into his sleeve. “I think it’s quite lovely.”

 

V.

 

“The country will be better off without you.”

“Do you really believe that, Chihiro?” Akashi asks. The wound is worse than Mayuzumi had thought it would look, the shaft of the arrow stained dark red poking out his side. “Perhaps I mistook you for someone with ambition.”

“I’m not the one playing god,” Mayuzumi says flatly. Firelight glances off the edge of his sword as he draws near. One strike will be enough, normally, for someone in Akashi’s position. But Mayuzumi’s only lived this long by acknowledging the wounded lion is a most dangerous creature. “Or thinking I’m right about everything.”

“It is human nature to make mistakes, yes.”

Mayuzumi flinches as a beam cracks and slides out of its position, tiny flames sprouting forth from the holes.  _Weeds to burn and burn again_. “You made a mistake in trusting me.”

“And yet,” Akashi murmurs, looking up as Mayuzumi stands before him, “You have done what I asked of you.”

 

 

_in places the sun does not touch / valleys where spring days do not arrive / there are no blossoming flowers / and he who thinks of the flowers / has no place in the valley_

 

 

“What’s that poem again, Chihiro?”

“I don’t know which one you’re talking about.”

He thumbs through the archived scrolls the Portuguese envoys had brought, dreary articles on foreign governance from China and further west, most of them. Mayuzumi would rather fight than govern, but both easily pale under the weight of the books he carries back towards Akashi.

“Look for it yourself.”

“The one by Haku Kyoi.”

“…”

Were anyone to tell Akashi that they were not children to be talked down to, Mayuzumi could only try to fathom the consequences. He reads from the page: “Lush grass on the plains thrive and wither, one year after another—”

“—wildfire cannot burn it completely, as it lives again with the spring breeze.” Akashi is looking at him now, and Mayuzumi cannot look away even if he wants to—and he doesn’t, this time. Even the birds outside are silent as Akashi speaks again. “Look out the window.”

Beneath the castle walls Mayuzumi can see the lines of sullen-faced soldiers being led away, banners broken and frayed. The mountains in the distance are still smouldering, and though he sees no fire Mayuzumi could almost smell the carnage as Akashi’s words pull him back into the room again. “You’ve defeated the rebels and the monks.”

“And more will take their place.” Against all rules of courtly order—then again, Mayuzumi muses, Akashi has always only had contempt for those—he stands above his retainer, forcing Mayuzumi to look up with a hand beneath his chin. “Will you be one of the weeds, Chihiro, or will you help me be the fire that will end them once and for all?”

“Until you burn even yourself?”

Akashi’s eyes glitter with some strange emotion as he looks down, and this time it is Mayuzumi who presses his lips against his lord’s temple. “If that day arrives, I trust you to make the right decision.”

 

VII.

 

Akashi’s fingers are still warm, though not as warm as they once were in the days leading up to this one. But Mayuzumi scarcely lets him touch his face for a moment before he edges away, knowing full well that he should be long gone by now.

Even as he is dying Akashi is always right. Mayuzumi stares hard at him as he unsheathes his blade. “Perhaps your troops will think you have died and find another master to serve, if you stay any longer.”

“Then it shall end now.”

If Akashi is even capable of being afraid of death, he does not show it. The tip of the blade pricks his skin, a tiny droplet of red forming between his collarbones. Red, like hair, and the eyes that are still looking down at Mayuzumi—perhaps the heat is having him imagining things. “Go ahead.”

“An Akashi will never beg for mercy, huh.”

The lion’s smile is as sharp as the sword Mayuzumi brings down.

 

 

_there is a stubbornness in your heart / that has your spirit pining for elsewhere / how the human heart wanders / and how the body sighs in housing it / a thing most unexpected_

 

 

It starts small—whispers in the castle, disappeared men, unrest after Tedorigawa that could not be put down in a single night. In his heart Mayuzumi knows what he is taking to bed is treason, though whether against the emperor or against his lord, has all blurred together at this point.

Some men have principles. Others have grudges. And yet none of them are Akashi Seijuurou, who is now lord over a land of destruction and death, his army marching upon still too many temples and mountains to count, their steady advance inevitable.

Mayuzumi could see these images even in bed, his fingers now too callused to play the  _koto_ before sleep as he once did, yet not so much that Akashi’s own could not find his under the silken covers.

And it is then, when the night is at its deepest, that he asks: “You know what they are planning to do.”

“Mm.”

“Maybe you should post more guards outside.”

Akashi takes a strand of his hair, pulling a little too tightly for Mayuzumi’s liking. “What good are more guards if they cannot do what few can accomplish? All men will die. It is what they accomplish before then that counts.”

“Sometimes I don’t even think you’re human.”

The smile that greets him is as dangerous as it makes Mayuzumi’s pulse quicken. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 _How arrogant_. Mayuzumi hears the name they whisper in the towns and villages they pass through:  _Dairokuten Mao_ , the ruthless demon king of the six realms. Still, when he feels Akashi stir in his arms, the thought is jolted out of his mind, even for a moment.

 

IX.

 

“If you knew this day would come,” Mayuzumi whispers, his sword clattering to the ground, “You should know it to be the coward’s way out, asking someone else to do it for you.”

“Chihiro.”

“Don’t—” He feels a choking laugh bubble up in his throat as he grabs Akashi by the collar, forcing him up. “Stop talking.”

“Then don’t disappoint me now,” Akashi murmurs into his cut sleeve, his breathing heavier now, a hand gripping tightly—so tightly on Mayuzumi’s wrist, that perhaps he is not really dying after all. “One should always finish what one started.”

“Akashi—”

“I wonder,” he says, eyes still lucid as ever as he guides Mayuzumi’s hand to his belt, “If it is any more cowardly for he who leaves an enemy to die, knowing full well the orders he was given are final.”

Mayuzumi’s fingers have scarcely curled around the handle of the knife before he feels it digging into soft flesh, and only then does he realize his nails have chipped and broken from pressure, beneath the wetness dripping down his hands once more, staining his sleeves dark.

“Save those tears for someone else,” Akashi whispers, even as Mayuzumi can see quite clearly he is no longer able to differentiate salt from ash.

 

 

_what is the color of parting? / parting is not a dye / but were it so / it would seep through clothing and into the heart / allowing sorrow to take hold_

 

 

“General, the temple—someone’s set a fire!”

“Take them from the back,” Mayuzumi tells him, watching the riders gallop past fleeing monks, the highest tower already glowing red and orange as the clang of metal starts to sound. He knows they will take this place easily with their numbers, even if by the end all they capture is ash.

The wind picks up; Mayuzumi signals his lieutenant to get the troops away from the crumbling north wing, but his gaze alights upon the shadowy silhouette in the veiled window above. The daimyo’s rooms, his scouts had reported.

_Akashi has always liked watching from above._

He draws the bow taut as his horse whinnies, stamping at the ground as if impatient, or in warning. In the sky above, ash is already beginning to drift slowly towards them, like snow.

_I’ve got something in my eye, that’s all._

**Author's Note:**

> \- all poems for each section are from the kokin wakashu, an anthology from the heian period. since there is no free english translation online i’ve translated each from a chinese translation (which you can view [here](https://miko.org/~uraki/kuon/furu/text/waka/kokin/kokin.htm)). the ones included are: 926, 394, 967, 977, 381. if there are any translation issues please feel free to tell me!!
> 
> \- tanba (the modern-day area around kameoka city) is one of the provinces akechi mitsuhide received from oda nobunaga in return for his services
> 
> \- the lines akashi and mayuzumi recite are translated from a famous poem by chinese poet bai juyi, who was widely read among japanese nobility; the latter two stanzas have been omitted, but you’re free to look them up :^)
> 
> \- the battle of tedorigawa resulted in a decisive victory of uesugi kenshin over oda nobunaga’s forces; this happened in 1579, three years before the rebellion
> 
> and finally, the theory i went for here (lifted from wikipedia), because pain lol:
> 
> \- **No one** knows the specific reason that Mitsuhide betrayed Nobunaga, though there are several theories: one being that Nobunaga had asked him to – a legend states that Nobunaga asked Mitsuhide to strike him down if he were ever to become too ruthless, and the Incident at Honnō-ji is Mitsuhide fulfilling this promise.


End file.
